


Dec 7: Cold

by IamDeli



Series: Sanders Sides Ficmas 2020 [8]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambassador Janus, Angst, Diplomacy, Fluff and Smut, Homecoming, King Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Loyalty, M/M, Star-crossed, blink and you miss it - Freeform, but they are still star-crossed, sprinkle of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamDeli/pseuds/IamDeli
Summary: Roman is waiting impatiently for the return of his most trusted advisor and diplomat to return for the Christmas festivities at Sanders Castle.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: Sanders Sides Ficmas 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995034
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Dec 7: Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this cup of yours tastes holy (this lie is dead)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045985) by [angelsdemonsducks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsdemonsducks/pseuds/angelsdemonsducks). 



> This bit is heavily inspired by angelsdemonsducks wonderful fic. Seriously, it’s so lovely. It’s Loceit and I absolutely fell in love with that cool af court/throne hall scene they wrote and I had to try do my own.

“Are his chambers prepared?” Roman asked while he was signing the last documents on his desk. 

“Yes, Your Majesty, everything is arranged for My Lord to return tonight.”

Roman dismissed his butler with an appreciative nod. Once alone he rolled his shoulders trying to get out some tension. It had been trying weeks leading up to this day. A war avoided by hair's breadth. A marriage evaded once again. A new ally secured somehow in all of this chaos.  
And all thanks to the one man he finally, finally would be seeing again tonight.

Only weeks ago he had thought he would be on a battlefield by tonight and then everything had turned around. In their euphoria the whole palace had managed to organize for the traditional Christmas festivities to be even grander than the years prior in such a short time span.

Roman still felt equal parts elated and exhausted. And he was very glad that the year was over. Not just for the sake of it being spiked with political conflict left and right that had now quieted down. But also because a whole year was a torture device like he hadn’t thought possible.

Hours later, the sun long down had the great hall bustling with noise, chatter and clatter. Guests and inhabitants of the castle filled the hall, eating and generally utterly relieved and relaxed.

Roman almost missed when the door of the side entrance to the hall opened for just a second and a tall figure walked in silently, cloak all glittery white and heavy with snow. He was actually holding his breath when the other took off his hood. He looked just as delectable as Roman remembered him. He couldn’t believe it had been a year of only letters. No one besides him seemed to be aware of his most appreciated confidant.

He smiled that vague little smile Roman loved so much, then respectfully implied a bow, and Roman _loved_ that he couldn’t tell if the gesture was genuine or mocking. Then he turned and searched for a place on one of the banquet tables. His own attention was demanded once again by the nobles sharing his table and he lost sight of his evasive diplomat.

Once the feast was over and everyone was going about their business, searching out acquaintances to exchange well-wishes and bask together in the moment that well and truly meant that a war had been evaded, that had looked inevitable up until the last second.

Janus finally approached him, the same tiny smirk on his lips. He himself had retreated to the fireplace at the far end of the hall, as far away from the music and the mingling as possible, desperately hoping he would at least get to talk to Jan with a modicum of privacy. His heart was racing with the anticipation to have him back, to have him close again.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” Janus greeted pleasantly, his voice a lovely, low hum. And his pretty, dark eyes burning into his when he knelt to kiss his liege’s ring.

Of course this was the exact expected behaviour to display at court when one was confronted with one's king.

Of course Janus let his lips drag over his fingers. Roman wanted to rail him. His fingers twitched imperceptible as Janus stood, graceful and looking as unaffected as one would expect. Roman knew him better.

“Excuse me, Your Grace, I don’t want to hold you up. I’m sure there are a lot of people that want to talk to you tonight.” And he vanishes. Leaving Roman a little shell-shocked, and aroused to make pleasant conversation with anyone but him for the rest of the evening.

He bristles, a little. But he also knows he’ll find a bath warm lover in his bed _later_. And he had seen the exhaustion in Jans eyes close up.

He wandered the hall dutiful, talking, making connections, letting folks see him while his mind stayed glued steadfastly to whatever he imagined Janus might do in this second. Getting rid of his cloak and armour? Unpacking? Delivering all important writs he brought to Romans study? Undressing? Slipping into the bathtub? Unwinding? Warmed up again after months cooling down?

Romans neck felt hot when he finally, _finally_ excused himself from the festivities. He tried _hard_ not to hurry, keeping his steps measured and even. Taking the time to send away the guards in front of his quarters before slipping in almost as silent as Janus probably had.

And there he was, half leaning over Romans massive desk to read a paper, clad only in one of Romans shirts, hair still damp and turning to him.

“Roman.”

He was with him in four large strides, cradling that sharp jaw to press a nearly desperate kiss to palish lips. It did not feel different at all, same fire answering, pressing back after just a second of hesitation, unsure if they were still the same. The were. They had to be or Roman was going to lose his mind.

"You've been away so long!" - "I apologize, Your Grace, I was trying to save your kingdom." Clearly mocking, this time. Mischievous eyes and upturned brow and _perfect_.

"You are not allowed to ever leave again!"

"As you wish, my king."

They both know it’s futile vow. Empty, in the grand picture of things of securing a reign and keeping peace. But it doesn’t matter right now. Not when they simultaneously open their lips for one another, tongues stroking softer than what their bodies suggest.

Roman crowds Janus slender, body against the desk. The fission thought of _too slim, starved_ from months of malnourishment at a military camp is gone with the first groan from that mouth and strong arms around his neck pulling him closer.

“Missed you…” Roman mumbled distractedly, but needing to say it nonetheless, “I can barely sleep without you by my side.”

It’s true. And not just in the romantic way of entwined, warm bodies but in the visceral protectiveness and loyalty that is his lover. Janus would die for him. Had killed for him. And felt no remorse.

The sound his confession gets out of Janus is an interesting mix of cooing and growling that makes his insides feel like molten lava. He’s so hard it hurts. Had been since that slick tongue had touched his fingers hours ago and he had half a mind of retaliation by shoving a few between increasingly pinker lips. Later.

“I need you..!” he gasps, kissed breathless.

“Yes, my king.” No jeer, no sarcasm, just the same need.

They stumble to the bed, unsteady but hastily, greedy for each other and shivering as they lose their clothes on the way over.

The tenderness that constricts Romans throat isn’t unexpected when Janus is under him, naked, and proves Romans earlier assessment right. There are also new scars, ones that he wants to ask about but not _know_ about. Janus is shameless and he doesn’t care much for Romans sensibilities when it comes to himself and just reels him back in, kisses him breathless again. 

It’s messy and unrestrained. Everything they aren’t in the light of day, individually and together. It’s filthy and precious, slipping into that tight, oil-slick hole and, overcome by pleasure and relief Roman allows himself an “I love you…” 

Janus does not say it back. He never had and probably never would and Roman didn’t need him to. He reveled in the raw panting that was coming out of Jans mouth instead, eyes a little glassy, heady mix of pleasure and pain. It had been some time and Janus liked it that way. Liked to go about his tasks the next few days, still being able to feel Roman, even when they would be too busy to get into and under each other's skin again.

It took not more than these thoughts and the incredibly tight glide to push them both over the edge far sooner than either would have liked.

And in the aftermath it was all too easy to be lulled to sleep by the smell and breathing of Janus, bodies still tangled. They should talk. There was so much to talk about. But Roman had meant that he never was able to sleep as he would have liked to, as he could with Janus stretched out next to him.


End file.
